Down the winding path, near sunset borough,
Lazy haze stagnates - a mist in the furrow.
That heady rustic stench of sunkissed yarrow,
A cacaphony of lull, the breeze it borrowed.

Of footsteps trudged, along these dewy meadows,
Eerie coldness wanders - the wind shrieked n' echoes
Crackling flames ripple round wary shuffling sparrows.
Flickering lights creep along, tired Ironwoods yellow.

Lone man's gaze, traversing the scenic hallow,
Of pain, hardships and loss - marr vows d'morrow.
Quiet sighs encompassing, embers lit from claro,
Of gain, triumph and hope - embrace unknown sorrows.

Author’s note:

Dear Reader,

Didn’t think I’d manage to post quickly after the last post but I’m glad I did so. The poem for me signifies the trials and tribulations we’ve all had to go through over the last couple of months, scratch that, years. I suppose in a way I wanted to write a poem that reminded me of better times and how even in situations like this we have to persevere.

In a way, the belief that tomorrow always comes and the instinct that the sun will continue to rise that pushes us and wakes me up every morning.

It’s no longer about whether or not the grass is greener on the other side . . .

It’s about having the faith to believe that there will still be grass when we make it to the other side . . .

– Moi

Penned on – 7th May 2021.

There’s so much I still want to say and so many emotions to pour out to, but I’ll keep those thoughts flowing and the pen running. Wishing you the reader the very best in the coming year. We’ll all need it.

The Lipid.